


Troubles in Para-thrice

by GraySonOfGotham



Series: Triplet Jokers AU [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication Issues, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Loss of Memory, M/M, Murder Mystery, Temporary Amnesia, Tim Drake is Batman, Triplet Jokers, Triplets, Violence, caribbean, lots of action, lots of misunderstandings, memory serum, temporarily, vacation gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraySonOfGotham/pseuds/GraySonOfGotham
Summary: First, Bruce decided he could not take the pressure anymore, both from his family and the triplets.Then his private plane to the Caribbean crash and leaves him stranded on an island, which he later finds out is a murder attempt.And while he was gone, John decides to take matters into his own hands, but everything... just did not go according to plan.*Sixth and final story to the series





	1. Idyllium

There was a tense silence in the cave. No one dared make the first, or wrong, move. Eyes darted from one person to another.

“Jason…” Bruce said slowly. “Put the guns down. We’ll talk about this-”

“Fucking talk about what?!” Jason screamed. “We trusted you, Bruce! We let you do what you had to! We gave you a chance to solve things! To end things!” The guns gestured at Bruce, who still had Jay wrapped up around him. “But you fucking brought them here, you _lied_! It was your rules! We followed your rules! And you’re the first to break them, so no! We’re not talking! Fuck you!” He fired his other gun, and a bullet flew through John’s shoulder.

He grunted and fell forward a little bit, but then, he pulled out his own gun, pointing it at Jason as well. He fired, but Jason had way too much practice dodging bullets. Bruce watched in growing horror as Jack pulled out his knives. Jay, thankfully, only clutched onto him tighter.

“Fuck,” Bruce said, quickly pushing Jay off of him, shoving him under the walkway to keep him out of harm’s way. “I have to fix this.” A batarang sliced through the air, knocking away one of Jack’s knives. Tim had pulled his bo staff out, and he leapt from the walkway. Bruce grabbed him before he landed on Jack’s back.

The bo staff smacked into the ground, and it rebounded, knocking Bruce in the jaw. But he caught Tim, tackling him to the ground. More gunshots rang out in the cave, and Bruce whirled around.

“STOP IT!” He yelled. “Just stop!”

He stood between John, with his sluggishly bleeding shoulder, and Jason, who still had one gun trained on John, and the other, he was trying to wrestle away from Jack.

“Everyone, just fucking shut up for a moment. I want to explain.”

“We’ve given you enough time to explain, Bruce,” Tim said, wiping his split lip. “You didn’t do a very good job of it.” He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his staff again.

Jason shook his head. “How could you, Bruce?” he asked softly. “I thought we were finally getting somewhere. But no. In the end, you chose _them_ over your family. It’s called betrayal, Bruce.” He scoffed loudly, wrenching his gun away from Jack and kicking him away. “You don’t deserve the mantle. Not anymore.”

Bruce was silent for a long time. Then, he straightened himself, standing up a little taller. “You’re right,” he finally said. “Maybe I don’t.”

Both Jack and Jay gasped loudly. John’s eyebrow rose the slightest bit. Damian’s mouth actually dropped open, and Tim gave him a startled look. In fact, Jason even blinked rapidly several times.

They all watched as Bruce reached around and took off the cowl and the cape. He tossed the black mass at Tim’s feet.

“Maybe it’s time I retire,” Bruce said slowly. “Tim can have the mantle. Until Damian’s old enough. I’m sorry, Jason, but I can’t give it to you. You’re too reckless and brash at times. But you should be satisfied now.”

Jason frowned, his lips thinning into a line. He looked around the cave, from Bruce, to the triplets, to Tim, then back to Bruce. He nodded curtly and tucked his guns away.

Tim stared at the cape and cowl at his feet. He looked almost afraid of it. “But… then what will you do now?” he asked tentatively. “Batman was… everything you’ve ever worked for,” he said softly.

“Yes, I suppose it was. But maybe I’m not the right man for the job anymore. Times have changed, and- and so have I.”

“So what,” Damian said with a snort. “You’re going to become full time billionaire playboy now? Live up to your public reputation?”

“No,” Bruce said slowly. “I don’t know what I will do next. Not yet. But, I’m going to take some time off. I heard the Caribbean is really nice this time of year.”

“But-” Jay started to object.

“I need time to think, please.”

“You can’t just leave _now_!” Damian argued. “This- This whole mess? We’re just going to put it on pause until you come back with a new tan?”

“Yes,” Bruce said icily. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen. And if I come back to find my city in flames,” he narrowed his eyes, looking from person to person in the room. “You’ll regret ever crossing me.”

“And you’re just going to trust them not to do anything?” Jason spat. “I don’t trust you, and I certainly don’t trust them.”

“Well, you’ll have to,” Bruce said. “ _Nothing_ is going to happen when I’m gone, right?”

John rolled his eyes. “I’ll be in my room, making no noise, and pretending I’m not there,” he said dully. “Happy?”

Bruce looked at Jack. Jack sighed but nodded. And Jay, Jay’s lip was trembling as he tried to hold back his sobs.

“Don’t leave,” he said softly.

Bruce sighed. He did not get enough sleep for this. He looked at the other for a moment, wishing for some privacy, but he made his way over to Jay. Jay ran into his arms, hiding his face in Bruce’s neck.

“It’s just a week, Jay,” Bruce murmured into his hair. “I’ll be back, and we’ll work things out.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Jay mumbled. “I just- I just lost the Bat, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“I’m not leaving, Jay. Won’t leave you.” He pressed his lips to the top of Jay’s head. “Promise.”

Jay muttered something Bruce did not hear. Then, he pulled back, his eyes scanning over Bruce’s face. “Okay,” he said quietly. He knocked on Bruce’s chest plate, where the large bat symbol stretched over his torso. “Have fun, I guess. I won’t- I won’t do anything either.”

Bruce smiled a little. “Good.”

~

Bruce left the next day. Alfred drove him to the airport, and Jay begged to come with.

After a silent conversation between Alfred and Bruce through frowns, raised eyebrows, and heavy resigned sighs, Jay was climbing into the backseat of the car, immediately sliding up to Bruce, curling himself up around him.

The ride to the private airport was mostly silent.

But as Bruce was about to leave the car, Jay grabbed his hand. “You’ll come back, right?” he asked, looking rather worried.

Bruce gave him a puzzled look. “Of course I will.”

Jay pursed his lips. “Okay… Don’t stay there too long.”

“It’s just for four days. A very short vacation, considering I could be there for a couple weeks. I just need a little breather.”

Jay sighed and nodded slowly. “Bye.”

Bruce looked at him a moment longer, then pulled Jay into a kiss. He held him there for a long three seconds before pulling away. “Bye, Jay.”

~

Three hours into the flight.

Rattling in the engine.

Chaos exploding among the staff.

A door being ripped open.

A parachute hastily strapped on.

Pushed out into the open.

Into the ocean.

Blue, blue, blue, then black.

~

Bruce washed up on an island with the sun beating down on his back. His suit was torn, and there was blood and sand on his face. Bruce pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around.

Behind him was a thick forest glade, and in front of him, just miles upon miles of blue water.

“Fuck,” Bruce muttered. He could be in the middle of anywhere. But he knew he was in the Caribbean area. But there were so many tiny uninhabited islands in the area it would take who knows how long for anyone to find him.

Bruce reached into the pockets of his soaked and sand crusted suit. He pulled out his phone. He tried turning it on, knowing fully well it would not work. Groaning, he tossed it into the sand. Then, he reached into one of the secret pockets, pulling out an emergency communicator. He pressed a button, one that would call the Batcave.

It rang once, twice, three times. Then, it was picked up.

“Yes?”

“Tim, it’s Bruce,” Bruce started.

“Sorry, wrong number,” Jason snapped. Then, the line went dead. Bruce sighed heavily, looking up at the skies. The unending stretch of blue made his eyes hurt. Instead, he tried again.

The line rang and rang, but no one picked up again.

“Damn it,” Bruce cursed. He tucked the communicator into his pocket to try again later. He turned towards the glades, his mouth twisting into a grimace. Bruce rolled up his sleeves before starting to trek into the shade.

It was no less hot or sticky, but at least Bruce did not feel like he was burning up, just steamed. He swatted at mosquitoes and wiped at sweat beading at his forehead and nose.

It was not long before the jacket came off and the shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons. Then, finally, Bruce came across a small pool of water. It was still water, which was probably very disgusting, but a quick taste confirmed it was indeed fresh water. Praying he would not get some horrible parasite, Bruce made note of its location. He would not drink it unless he absolutely had to. Sure, he was getting dehydrated fast, but he was sure he would be rescued soon enough. After all, someone would notice if his jet did not arrive on time. Alfred would eventually be notified and he would send help.

Then Bruce froze. News like that would certainly be front page of every newspaper and headline of every news channel. There was no way it would not. Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s plane suddenly explodes with less than ten people on it for no apparent reason? No sign of the Bruce himself in the middle of the Caribbean?

He groaned silently to himself, leaning against a tree. He slid down, sitting and resting his legs for a moment. This was going to be a huge mess. He came out here to clear his mind, to think, and only ended up creating more trouble than necessary.

And fuck, Jay would have no explanation at all as to what happened. He just hoped that he would stick to his promise not to try to create any more drama and stay in Gotham.

Surely he would not try to go out and search for him, right?

Everything just seemed to be spinning out of control too fast. All the control stripped from Bruce’s hands, making him chase after it with no guarantee of regaining any. It was madness, complete madness.

Was it even going to be worth it in the end? To some level, Bruce knew that it was a horrible choice to get involved and stay involved. He should have cut all relations with the triplets. But then, how could he sleep at night knowing there were _three_ of them running around his city? But now, now that he got close to them, now there was no definite label on their relationships, everything Bruce worked so hard for was coming down all around him.

So what was Bruce supposed to do now?

~

At the end of the first day, Bruce was in a feverish haze. He was pretty sure he started hallucinating, his vision blurring at times. By the end of the second day, Bruce gave in. Parasites or not, he drank from the pool of fresh water. He could hire the best surgeons and doctors in the world to take care of whatever microscopic worms lived in that water. Bruce may have lost it all, but he was not ready to give up yet.

Halfway to the third day, Bruce was sure he was going to die. He had not eaten in three days, and he was dizzy. The water always left a bad taste in his mouth, and Bruce was sure there were dirt in his teeth.

There had also been no contact from the communicator whatsoever. Every day, Bruce had tried to call the Batcave, but all he got were static.

But just before the third day drew to a close, he noticed a flash of black through the darkening skyline. Bruce stumbled out of the shade he had been lying in, onto the beach. The black streak grew closer and closer, and finally, close enough for Bruce to recognize the Batwing. It came to a stop at the edge of the beach, hovering just a couple feet over the water.

Bruce stumbled towards it, a stupid smile on his face. The door opened, and Alfred stood there, arms crossed, looking sophisticatedly disappointed.

“Master Bruce,” he nodded as Bruce stumbled onto the ship. “You’re looking worse for wear.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said, with only a rasp of sarcasm. He goes straight for the water, drinking until he was sure he was going to be sick. Then, Bruce ate an apple. He knew he could not just gorge himself on food as much as he wanted to. He had to ease back into it.

So he took a shower, a long, hot water shower that felt so good. He scrubbed every inch of him with soap three times before stepping out and brushing his teeth several times as well. He got dressed slowly, starting to put on a full suit before deciding it was completely useless and just went with a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He walked into the cockpit.

“Alfred,” Bruce said, falling into the seat next to him. “How’re things in Gotham?”

“Fine, sir,” Alfred said, not looking at him. “Everyone’s a bit worried about your disappearance.”

Bruce’s eyebrows raised. “Is that so? And all my calls to the cave have been unanswered because…?”

Alfred looked over at that. “Calls?”

Bruce dug pulled out the communicator. “I made one call, Jason answered it and immediately hung up on me. After that, nothing.”

Alfred’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, there have been some disputes among the boys. I shall have a talk with Master Jason when we get back. But we have two hours still. Go sleep, Master Bruce. You need it.”

Bruce nodded, eating a granola bar before collapsing in his bed, his eyes sliding shut and darkness taking over immediately.

~

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice said, coming from the speakers.

Bruce opened his eyes, yawning. He felt more tired than he did when he fell asleep.

“We’ll be arriving in Gotham in ten minutes.”

Bruce nodded, even though Alfred could not see him. He reached into the drawer by the bed, pulling out a cell phone. He dialed in a number. It rang three times before being picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Allison, is it? It’s Bruce,” Bruce said as sweetly as he could in his tired state.

“Oh? Mister Wayne! Oh my god, are you okay? I heard-”

“Yes, yes,” Bruce said quickly. “The whole thing with the plane. I’m fine now, thank you. If you would do me a _huge_ favor, darling. Organize a press conference for… three hours from now, will you please?”

“Uh, yeah, sure thing, Mister Wayne. Is that- Is that all?” His secretary, Abigail, asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Bruce said, letting his eyes slide closed. “See you then.”

“Good-bye, Mister Wayne. I’m glad you’re okay.”

The call ended, and Bruce let out a soft sigh. He let himself lie there another minute before dragging himself out of bed. He went to the bathroom, hopping into the shower, turning the water to the coldest it would go for three minutes before stepping out. He was more awake now. Bruce shaved, then carefully slicked his hair into something resembling presentable. He got dressed slowly, glad he remembered to put a suit in the Batwing, despite the fact it was very unlikely for Bruce Wayne to be caught stepping out of one of Batman’s vehicles.

But Alfred flew straight to the cave. When Bruce stepped into the cave, he had to place a hand on the side of the plane for a moment as a wave of nausea rolled over him.

“Bruce!” Tim spun around in the chair, where he had been working on the computer. “You made it!”

He ignored Tim, walking straight to the computer, working with ease, glancing at the screen and having no need to look at the different keys.

“Um, what are you doing?” Tim asked.

Bruce pulled the communicator out of his pocket. “He blocked me,” Bruce growled.

“Who did? Bruce?”

“Where’s Jason?”

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “On a mission, why? He left… this morning, why?”

Bruce sighed heavily, closing his eyes. “Of course he did. After you guys located me, right?”

“Yes,” Tim said slowly. “You think he was preventing us from finding you?” He paused. “Because he’s upset you did not give him the mantle.”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t seem particularly bitter about your decision.”

“Because he ultimately got his way in the end,” Bruce said. “Track him down. I’m going to be having a long chat with him.”

Tim winced silently. Everyone knew how that talk would end up turning out. “What if I said no?”

Bruce turned around, staring at Tim hard. “ _No_?”

“Yeah, what if I said I won’t track Jason down.”

Bruce turned fully. “And why not?”

Tim shrugged. “I can kind of get where his anger’s coming from. I mean, he shouldn’t have done that whole thing with the communicator and all, but I don’t think you need to yell at him any more than you already have.”

“Tim…” Bruce said.

“He’s an adult. He- He can do what he wants. And… the whole thing with the Jokers? He feels like you betrayed him again. Bruce, you have to understand he has feelings too.”

“I am not having this conversation with you right now.” He turned to go.

“You have to face that, Bruce! He’s not a kid anymore! Neither am I, nor is Damian! You have to start treating us like we’re grown up!” Tim called after him. Bruce stopped, but he did not turn. Tim took this as his sign to continue. “You’re worried, I get it,” he said, softer. “But we’re not kids anymore. We can make our own choices, make our own mistakes. You can’t be our safety net forever.”

There was a long silence. Then, Bruce turned to look at Tim again. He nodded. “You’re right, Tim,” he said. “You’re not kids anymore. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for you anymore. I might not have been the best fatherly figure or made the greatest choices, but… I just hope you guys can trust me again someday.” He finally got that off his chest, and it felt a tiny bit better.

Tim nodded. “I get it, I do. But if you don’t let us take some responsibility around here, everything that goes wrong is kind of your fault in the end,” Tim said with a sympathetic shrug. He sighed deeply. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you here, okay? The whole thing with the Jokers? I see where you’re coming from. And I also see Jason’s side. While I don’t really like choosing sides, and I’m not saying who’s wrong or right because I believe there are faults on both parts, I’m probably going to be supporting Jason through all this. And it’s nothing personal towards you, Bruce! I just- Jason’s more likely to disembowel me than you are, and… in the end, we Robins got to stick together.”

Bruce was shocked by the sudden sense of pride in his chest. Maybe they really had grown up long ago, and while Bruce was not blind to it, he was afraid to admit it. He always thought he was somewhat of a failure of a father, but whether or not that was true, there was some sadness in knowing they did not need him anymore. And the fact that Tim managed to bring that to Bruce’s attention without getting into a full on yelling match like how conversations like those usually end up, he actually got Bruce to listen. There was no violence, or anger fueling the words.

Bruce gave Tim a small, sad smile. “I see.” He was silent for a beat. “Thank you to telling me that, Tim.” Then, he turned and walked out of the cave, and this time, Tim did not stop him.

~

“As far as I know,” Bruce said, standing in front a dozen or so reporters and several news anchors. Cameras flashed in his face several times a minute. Security guards stood at every entrance. “Only the pilot survived. He is currently recovering at the hospital, but once he is well enough, he will be questioned by the police. They have reason to believe that someone on the plane was making an attempt on my life.” Then, he laughed. “I think it’s absolute bogus, but they’re the professionals, not me.”

Then, the storm of “Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne!” started up again as the reporters surged forward to ask questions.

Bruce answered a few more, doing his best to play his charming, but idiotic billionaire that has no idea he was nearly murdered.

An hour later, the press conference was finally over, and he was led to the back room by two guards. Someone brought him a bottle of water and Abigail, his newest secretary-in-training approached, a couple folders and a clipboard in his arms.

She smiled brightly at him. “Welcome back, Mr. Wayne!”

Bruce smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Allie.”

“Abby, sir. My name’s Abigail.”

“Right, _Abby_ ,” Bruce said, smiling. “Greatest apologies, darling.”

She blushed lightly but gave him a smile. Bruce decided he might keep her a while. She was not one of those secretaries that only took the job to watch him work out. She was a bit shy, but she maintained a professional face.

“So your son came in your place for all the meetings except for the one Tuesday afternoon, with your board of executives, Mister Bishop from Wild Corps and his executives, sir.”

“And why’s that, Abby?” Bruce asked.

“Er, Mr. Bishop refused to meet with anyone but you, sir.”

“I see,” Bruce sighed. There were occasionally those who disagreed with Bruce’s choice to give make his adopted son his heir to his company, despite doing a spectacular job. “Can we reschedule for a later time?”

Abigail smiled. “Yes, sir. I rescheduled for… later today, actually. But I warned Mister Bishop that you may not be back yet. Shall I call him?”

“Yes, please.” Bruce nodded at her. “Thank you, Allison.” He started leaving the room.

“Abigail.”

He smiled. “Right.”

Charming, but idiotic billionaire.

~

Bruce pulled open the door to his car, opening his mouth to tell Alfred to drive him to his office. But he did not get a single word out.

“You know, it would have been nice for you to _call_.”

The person in the passenger’s seat turned around. Bruce’s mouth snapped shut. He gave Jay a tight smile. Then, he turned back to Alfred. “The office, please.”

“Oh, you disappear for three days, crash into the Caribbean, no one knows if you’re dead or alive,” Jay said as he started climbing into the back.

“Mister Jay-” Alfred tried to warn.

“-and I’m sitting here in Gotham chewing on my newly manicured nails, knowing fully well that I made a promise not to create any trouble until you came back, but also knowing that you may _not_ ever come back, and I was having a bit of a crisis, and _then,_ I learn from the news that you’re perfectly alive, but did not have the courtesy to _call me_!”

Jay was sitting in Bruce’s lap now, smiling down at him.

“Now,” Jay said sweetly, flashing a sharp grin. “Does that sound like something worth breaking up over? Or am I being overdramatic?”

Bruce sighed, his hands resting naturally on Jay’s hips. “Jay…”

“Bruce…”

“I’m sorry. But I haven’t had the time,” he said.

Jay sighed melodramatically, rolling his green eyes up, fixing it on the roof of the car. “No time, hm? You seemed to have a lot of time for me when you were Bruce Wayne _and_ Batman, but now that you’re just Bruce Wayne, you have no time for me anymore?”

“Jay.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Jay gave in. “Okay, okay. You’ve been busy, I get it. But I _have_ been worried, you know? Unnecessarily, according to John.” He lowered his voice. “At one point, I thought-” he stopped. Then, he shook his head and smiled. “I’m glad you’re back, Bats.”

“Not Batman anymore.”

“I’ve had time to think it over too. You’ll always be the only Batman in my life.” He traced a finger along Bruce’s cheek, then down to his jaw. Jay’s smile softened. “I’m glad you’re back. And safe.”

Bruce thought for a moment to tease Jay, but he decided not to. He wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m glad to be back too. Sorry, I left, Jay.”

Jay buried himself in Bruce’s neck, his arms tight around his neck, betraying the worry Jay had actually been hiding.

Then, Jay pulled back. He smoothed back a bit of Bruce’s hair fondly. Then, as if a switch was flipped, his smile grew malicious.

“So,” Jay licked at the corners of his mouth. “Darling, tell me about this… murder attempt.”


	2. Memories of Our Past

“Jay, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Bruce said as Jay pulled out his phone.

“Nope,” Jay agreed. “Definitely not a good idea. But those are the best kind of ideas, Brucie.”

“People are going to get killed,” Bruce reminded tiredly.

“Know that, thanks.”

“And I’m still not okay with that. Need I remind you?”

Jay sighed. “But Bats, don’t you see? Someone’s after you. If they’re still alive, assuming the person on your private jet was only an assassin, they’ll come after you again.”

“Yes, I’ve thought about that,” Bruce said. “But I’ll be fine, promise.”

Jay shook his head. His phone was held to his ear. He brightened when it was answered. “Hey, Harls! Yes, yes… no, he’s fine,” Jay said, glancing at Bruce momentarily. Then, he pulled away from the phone a moment. “She says hi,” he whispered. Then he goes back to his call. “Uh huh, yeup. Listen, Harley. Can you put Jack on the phone, real quick?” He paused. “Just repaint them! It’ll be fine.” Jay was silent for another couple seconds. “Hey, Jackie! I need a favor.”

“Jay… there’s not need to do whatever this is,” Bruce said quietly.

“Yeah,” Jay said, ignoring Bruce. “Real traumatized. Practically shaking, poor baby… no, he’s going to a meeting right now.” Jay sighed dramatically. “Please, Jackie? Just track ‘em down…? Yes, yes! Thank you, thank you!” Jay gushed into the phone. Then, he ended the call.

Bruce gave him a dry look. “How did Jack know what you wanted?”

Jay smirked and tapped his temple. “Triplets, remember? And he’s intuitive.”

“Right.” Bruce glanced out the window. He fixed his cuffs, pulling at them. “Okay, I’m going to my meeting now,” he said.

“Your meeting’s not for another two hours,” Jay said.

“So? I need to be updated on everything I’ve missed,” Bruce said. “Alfred will take you where you need to go. Nowhere dangerous, nowhere sketchy. He’ll be the judge of exactly what constitutes dangerous.”

Jay pouted. “But Batsy!”

“No, Jay, I’ll see you later, okay? And we’ll have a chat about the whole ‘hunt down my murderer’ thing. Until then, you’ll stick by your promise to stay out of trouble. Go get a manicure with Jack and Harley,” he said with a gentle smirk. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jay’s lips. “See you later.”

Jay sighed, giving him a sideways glare. “Fine. Later.”

Bruce smiled gently before pushing Jay off his lap. He opened the door and got out quickly. He could not risk someone seeing Jay in his car. That would certainly raise a lot of questions.

Bruce took the back entrance to his office, wanting to avoid all the people who would certainly greet him and say how happy they were that he was fine when half of them could not give two shits.

He took the elevator up to his office, on the top floor. Bruce spent half an hour answering emails and then the next half an hour checking reports. Finally, he took a break, half an hour before his meeting. He put his head down on his desk, just closing his eyes and reveling in the silence.

He had hoped for some time to himself, but apparently he could not do that. Instead, he got someone who wanted him dead, and could very much possibly still be after him. Then, Bruce’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket.

It was a text from Tim.

_There had been someone on your jet who had tried to blow it up in hopes of killing you. Pilot woke up, being questioned now. Will send you a full report later._

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed. Someone was trying to kill him. But not him, Batman, no. They were trying to kill the billionaire Bruce Wayne. But for what reason? Sure, Bruce may have offended some people over the years, but that was not exactly grounds for murder, right? And what would his death benefit for anyone?

Bruce ran it over and over in his head, but he could not find a reason. He made his way to the conference room two floors down, still completely caught up in his thoughts. He entered the meeting room, ten minutes early.

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up when he saw someone inside, sitting at one of the seats at the end, organizing papers.

“Oh, hello,” Bruce said, alerting the woman of his presence. “Was not expecting anyone in here.”

She looked over. She had dark hair, styled in a bob. She stood, and approached Bruce. “Mister Wayne! I apologize. I tend to show up early for meetings so I can gather my thoughts beforehand.” She held out her hand. “Miranda Burks,” she introduced. “I’m the Director of Finance for Wild Corps.”

“Bruce Wayne, but you already knew that,” Bruce said. Miranda’s bright red lips pulled into a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. “Pleasure to meet you.” He nodded then turned to take his own seat.

But then, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eyes, and Bruce whirled around again, catching Miranda’s hand, squeezing. The knife dropped with a gasp and Bruce released her. She gave him a death glare then swung her leg up to kick him. Bruce barely avoided the heel of her shoes. A dart flew out of the bottom of the heel and it pierced into his shoulder.

Bruce felt the prick of the dark, and he gritted his teeth. A wave of nausea rolled over him. It could very well be something from his trip in the Caribbean, or that dark was poisoned.

Bruce wasted no time grabbing Miranda and flipped her over his head, bringing her down hard on the conference table. It cracked in half, and Miranda slumped. Bruce plucked the dart out of his shoulder and groaned as his vision started blurring.

He gripped the edge of the table hard. The doors to the conference room opened again, and Abigail walked in, gasping. She rushed forward. “Mister Wayne! Are you- Someone call an ambulance!” she yelled.

Bruce waved her off. “No, no,” he managed. “Alfred. Call- Call Alfred, please.”

Abigail gave him a scared look as he fell to his knees. She dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“Speed dial, one,” Bruce managed, dark spots dancing around his eyes. He felt like he was swaying. As he blacked out, he heard Abigail talking into the phone urgently.

“Mister Alfred? It’s Mister Wayne, he’s-”

Darkness.

~

When Bruce awoke, he was not in a hospital, thankfully. He groaned, turning on his side only to nearly fall off the couch he had been lying on. It was a ridiculous bright orange with a couple suspicious stains.

He groaned.

A voice from another room gasped. “He’s awake!”

A second later, Jay hovered over his face, clutching his hand. “Bats,” he gasped. Then, he proceeded to smooth his hands over Bruce’s face a thousand times. “Oh, you’re okay, you’re okay. Shit, we thought we lost you for a sec there.”

The watery smile he gave Bruce made Bruce grimace slightly.

“I nearly died?”

“Practically died. It’s more like we _brought_ you back. There was no heartbeat for a while,” someone else said. John stood at the foot of the couch, his hair ruffled, a streak of some sort of red dust on his forehead, his arms crossed, and he was frowning at Bruce.

“Had you gotten here any later, you would have died,” John said. He was silent for a long beat. “You’re an absolute idiot, you know? Where is your security?”

“I don’t… I never bothered with security,” Bruce admitted.

John snorted. “See? And there’s your problem. That’s why someone nearly killed you. Twice now.”

Bruce ignored him. “Where’s Alfred?”

“He went to go throw the police off your trail for a while. After all, you asked for him instead of going to the hospital,” John said. “You’re so fucking lucky I’ve made an antidote for that poison before.”

“What poison was it?” Bruce asked, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position.

John shrugged. “It was an altered version of something of Ivy’s.”

“But why’s Ivy trying to kill him?” Jay asked, holding Bruce’s hand tighter. “She’s not- She’s not a killer.”

John’s expression went grim. “No, she’s not. Which is why I have reason to believe it was stolen.”

“But why not just use regular poisons? Human poisons? There are a lot faster acting poisons, aren’t there?” Bruce asked, still not quite able to wrap his mind around it. His head was also still throbbing. “Do you have water?”

Jay hurried to go get Bruce a glass of water.

John shrugged. “Who knows. Ivy’s poisons are slower, but because they’re natural, they don’t leave chemical traces that can be tested for. So technically, if you had died, it would have looked like you died for absolutely no reason.”

“Then how did you know what poison it was?”

John smirked. “Would you be mad if I said I just took a few guesses?”

“A _few_? So you randomly injected me with things?”

John’s nonchalance confirmed Bruce’s suspicions.

“Don’t worry, none of it will kill you,” John said, “Might make you a bit sick, but it’s mostly harmless.” Bruce’s glare showed that he was not convinced. “C’mere, you can take a look.”

John started out of the room. Bruce waited a moment before pushing himself to his feet shakily and going after John. He went to John’s room, which was more or less the same as the previous safe house. A large lab table was set up on his desk.

“That does not look safe,” Bruce said.

“I’m careful, so it’s fine,” John said. He held up a couple vials. “See, look. Here’s the things I gave you.”

Bruce squinted at the labels. “I can’t even read that. It’s not- It’s not a language, John. They’re scribbles.”

John took them. He examined the labels. “So they are.” He smiled at Bruce. “Too bad you can’t read it then!”

“John,” Bruce said warningly.

Jay walked over, pressing a glass of water into his hand. Bruce took it, murmuring a quiet thank you to him. Jay then hooked his arm through Bruce’s other arm, pressing them together.

“What?” John asked. “Just trust me. They’re harmless.”

“John.” Bruce set the glass down.

John sighed, rolling his eyes. “No longer the Bat, but still no fun.” He reached for three other vials. “Here. The red one’s the antidote to the poison.”

Bruce took the vials, examining them. Visually, nothing seemed wrong. “Can I take samples?”

John rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Bruce pulled out three cotton swabs from somewhere inside his jacket. He took a dab of each, placing them in small evidence bags.

“Do you _seriously_ carry all that stuff in all your suits?” John asked with a criticizing eye.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Of course. You never know when you might need it.”

Bruce reached for his glass of water, taking his first sip. It was oddly thick for water.

He peered at the glass in his hand. It was the same as the glass Jay gave him, but it definitely was not water inside.

“No!” John snatched the glass out of his hand. “Oh, no, fuck.” His looked up at Bruce. “You- You _drank_ it? Oh, fuck! That was a memory serum, idiot!”

With that, Bruce blacked out, his last conscious memory was of Jay catching him and gasping, _“Bruce!”_

~

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice said. “Good to see you awake.”

Bruce opened his eyes, yawning. “How- How long was I out for?”

“Ten hours,” he said. Alfred brought over a tray of food. “Eat. You’ll need your strength. You had a slight concussion.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed as he reached for the sandwich. “Odd. I don’t remember hitting my head… In fact, I don’t- I don’t remember anything at all. What happened, Alfred?”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Your fight with Killer Croc last night? Robin found you unconscious until now.”

Bruce frowned, taking a bite. His mouth felt oddly dry. “What day is it, Alfred?”

“The twelfth, sir.”

“Huh,” was all that Bruce said. “And why was I out on patrol last night? I vaguely remember being ordered to… recover from some poison.”

“I did forbid you from patrol, sir,” Alfred said mildly. “But you seemed to have forgotten that your children were perfectly capable of handling patrol for one night.”

“And this- this poison. I remember the fight with Miranda, but nothing after that.”

“Because you were poisoned and nearly died?” Alfred asked, as if Bruce was particularly slow.

“I still feel like I’m missing something.”

Alfred sighed. “I’m sure it’s just consequences of your concussion, Master Bruce. You will be fine soon.”

“Right,” Bruce said. He then nodded at Alfred. “Send Damian in, will you? I want to ask him about the details on last night.”

Alfred nodded and walked out. Five minutes later, Damian knocked and then pushed the door open.

“Father.”

“Damian,” Bruce greeted.

“How are you feeling?” Damian asked. “You were in bad shape last night. Drake and I barely got you back.”

“I’m fine now, I suppose. I have a question. Where is- Where is _Jason_?”

Damian shrugged. “Tim said he went on a mission. That day you came back from the Caribbean.”

“And he has not been back yet? And no word from him?”

Damian shook his head slowly. “Why?”

Bruce frowned. “I… don’t know, actually. I thought I had something to tell him, but I can’t seem to recall.” Then he waved his hand. “In the meantime, can you make a report of last night’s events? As I’m having issues remembering certain details.”

Damian nodded. He started to go. “Oh, and Alfred wanted to tell you that you’re not allowed to go out on patrol for another week until you heal and solve the issue with Bruce Wayne’s murder attempts.” He paused again at the door. “Oh, and the police want to question you about yesterday.”

Bruce felt a sharp pain sear through his head. He grimaced and nodded. “Okay, thanks, Damian.”

Damian gave Bruce a curt nod before leaving. Bruce shook his head. That kid was raised with way too formal manners, even for Bruce’s standards.

He moved to go to the bathroom, groaning. His body protested with the movement. Washed his face and brushed his teeth first, then going to run his hand through his hair, looking haggard.

Then, he paused. Bruce leaned in towards the mirror, eyes narrowing. He reached up into his hair slowly, pinched something and pulled it out. Bruce held it out into the light.

His face pulled into a frown.

It was a curl of green hair.

Didn’t Alfred say he fought _Killer Croc_ last night? Unless Croc decided to get a perm, Bruce had a feeling it was from someone else. But Bruce remembered very clearly washing his hair on the Batwing yesterday. And if he had been sleeping for ten hours, which left a twelve hour window where Bruce was awake.

And Bruce was _pretty_ certain he did not run into anyone with green hair yesterday. But there had been _one_ odd incident that Bruce remembered.

Bruce’s expression darkened.

He had a fair idea who the person who was so set on killing him was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! So things are getting even more heated! This will be the most action packed story of the series. Go out with a bang, am I right? So I hope you guys are ready for the roller coaster of a ride this will be. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think will happen and how this will play out! I really want to hear your guys' thoughts! <3


	3. Sorry, Can't Talk Right Now

Bruce crouched on top of the building, eyeing the men ten stories below, completely unaware of his presence. His heavy cape lay silent behind him. Robin stood hiding on the building directly across the street and Red Robin two blocks down, watching the getaway car.

Bruce had been tipped off by Gordon earlier that there was going to be a meeting. He was unclear on the details, but it involved a murder. He had reason to believe this murder could very well be that of Bruce Wayne.

So he decided to check it out.

He listened in on the conversation. His microphones picked up nearly everything.

“-Boss said tomorrow,” one man said in a low voice. He had a black baseball cap pulled low over his face and a jagged scar along his left jawline. “Not at the… again though. They’d be watching him like...”

“If not the office, then where? All he does is go from home to work to…” another man asked. He was nervously playing with his hands behind his back. His fingernails were also chewed to bloody nubs.

“The botanical gardens. There’ll be a… function being held there. Boss wants ‘em to go… the function as some rich businessmen and… him away from the crowd. But Boss wants him… this time,” Scarface said. Then, he looked around. “Wants to do…”

Bruce had heard enough. He could fill in the blanks himself. Those words were not of importance. In fact, he already knew which words were missing. _Office, hawks, charity, attend, lure, alive, himself_ in that specific order.

So there was no need to hear them talk anymore. He jumped off his perch, landing between the two men. Across from him, Bruce saw Robin jump down as well.

“Batman!” Bitten Nails screeched. He tried to tackle him, but the close distance did not do very much. Bruce wrenched the man back, slamming his face into the bricks. The man immediately blacked out. Apparently, he was not the fighting type.

The other man was pulling a gun out, his hands shaking so hard he could not undo the safety. Robin had him slumped against the wall and disarmed before he even got a good grip on the weapon. Bruce approached Scarface, grabbing the cap from his head and tossing it deep into the alley.

He eyed the man, blood running from his nose. The man was shaking, hard.

“You’re not the assassins,” he mused aloud.

“No! No! Never killed a man in my life!” Scarface sputtered. “We’re- We’re just messengers.”

“And you… talked directly to your boss?”

Scarface shook his head. “No, no, the- the information came through two people before me and was supposed to- supposed to go through another two after Steve!”

Bruce glanced at “Steve”, who lay unconscious, sprawling on the floor.

“Is that right?” Bruce asked.

Scarface nodded vigorously. He glanced at Robin. “Please- Please don’t hurt me!”

“Get Gordon over here,” he growled at Robin. “He’ll take care of them.”

Then, in his ear, Red Robin called. “Uh, Batman? We’ve got a slight situation here. A man dressed in all black with a ski mask just walked past me, so I trailed him, and he’s talking to this other man now. They’re in the alleyway between Park Avenue and Twelfth Street.”

Bruce paused for a second. “Can you hear what they’re talking about?”

“No, wait- yes, yes I can. It’s… unclear, but I think _this_ was the meeting you were trailing? Because they’re discussing a murder.”

Bruce cursed quietly. “I’ll be right there.”

Half a minute later, Bruce dropped down by Red Robin, glaring down, where indeed, there were two men, talking.

“-in a couple days,” one man said. Bruce could not see any definite details about him from his angle. “Boss is sending someone to take his kid, hold him for ransom, and make him drop the ransom off at some place personally. Then, Boss’ll make the move then.”

They too, apprehended the two men, who like Steve and Scarface, were only messengers, terrified out of their minds.

Three hours later, Bruce returned to the Batcave. He removed his cowl, scowling. “I don’t get it.”

Tim looked pretty baffled as well.

“IF they’re discussing the same murder, which I’m sure they are, why plan another attempt before the first attempt is made?”

Tim shrugged. “Maybe they’re expecting for you to escape again.”

Bruce shook his head, frowning harder. “No… that’s not it. If they expect me to escape, then they’ll make a better plan in the first place to ensure that I don’t. No, it’s something else.”

Tim shrugged. “Seems like a very peculiar train of thought to me. You said you think the Joker’s behind this? I mean, not to vouch for him or anything, but he usually has a pretty straightforward plan for things.”

“Exactly,” Bruce said. “So he’s either trying to throw Batman off, or it’s not him.”

“But you found that hair. I ran the DNA. It’s him.”

“Right,” Bruce said. “But this- this isn’t his MO.”

“So… a copycat? Maybe they just got his hair and that assassin in your office planted it.”

“I don’t think she planted it,” Bruce said. “It was either before or after. Maybe someone came in after I was shot with the dart?”

“Er, well, it was your secretary that called Alfred, and she was by your side until he came. Unless you’re saying she’s working for the Joker, then it’s a dead end.”

“Yes, Abigail.”

“You know her name.”

“Of course I do,” Bruce said. “What, you _actually_ think I don’t bother to remember their names?”

Tim shrugged. “Just thought you went through so many secretaries, you probably stopped bothering.”

Bruce scoffed. “I need a full background check on Abigail. Family, extended family, friends, childhood, previous jobs, criminal record, everything.”

“Okay, but I just think Abigail’s a pretty nice girl.”

“Yes, you also thought Damian was nice when he first came.”

“Point.”

“HEY!” Damian yelled from the other side of the cave, where he was polishing a set of batarangs. “Fuck you, Drake!”

“Language, Damian,” Bruce chided mildly.

“I am not a _child,_ Father.”

Bruce decided not to respond to that. Just then, the door to the Manor opened. Someone came running down the stairs.

“Hey, Timbo! D’you know that someone’s been-” Jason stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing, going from person to person in the cave. A half-eaten cookie was held in his hand. “What the fuck is going on here? What are _you_ doing in here?” Jason asked, pointing at Bruce. “You gave up…” he trailed off.

Bruce’s eyebrows raised. “I gave up what?”

Then, Alfred appeared. He looked slightly disheveled. “Master Jason-”

Jason turned around towards Alfred, eyes still narrowed. “Yes?”

Alfred straightened himself. He cleared his throat. “Nothing, sir.”

Jason stared at him a moment later, then slowly turned back to the occupants of the cave. His narrowed eyes gave way to a look of confusion. He took another slow bite of his cookie. Then, he started down the stairs to the main part of the cave.

“So, B,” Jason said. “Someone’s been after you? Heard you got shot with a poison dart from some lady’s heel,” he snorted.

Bruce gave him an odd look. He looked from Jason, who looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, to Alfred, who watched from where he stood. Bruce gave Alfred a questioning look, but Alfred just shrugged.

“Hullo?” Jason asked, stuffing the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “Hey, if you’re going to play that ‘Let’s all pretend Jason’s invisible’ game again, I’m going to take the contents of your entire wine cellar.”

“No… I was just… thinking,” Bruce said slowly. “What were you saying before? What did I give up?”

Jason made a funny face. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” Tim said. “You said, ‘What are you doing in here? You gave up…’ then nothing else.”

Jason swallowed, frowning at Tim and Bruce. “I did not say that. Stop trying to trick me. It’s getting really old.” He turned up towards the screens. “So what are you guys looking at?”

Bruce stared at Jason a moment longer. Then, he sighed. “I have no idea, honestly.” He explained the situation to Jason. He was glad Jason was willing to talk to him. It was probably because there were two other people in the room with them, but at least they were speaking.

“Maybe they’re trying to throw you off,” Jason said.

“We already thought about that.”

“Or,” Jason said, holding up a hand. “Maybe, whoever this is, is trying to confuse you about the exact location or time of the next attempt. Which is why they set up several different meetings between different people who gave different information. They could all be fake, or one of them is real, but we don’t know which one it is.”

“And… you know this how?” Bruce asked.

Jason shrugged. “C’mon. I run part of the criminal underworld, Bruce. And I’m a vigilante. I know how both sides think and how to make loopholes through both.”

Bruce was silent a while. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or disappointed.”

“Well, you already look disappointed on a daily basis anyway.”

Bruce glared at him.

“So tomorrow, don’t go to the charity function, fake some sickness or something, and keep Damian home from school the day after. Problems solved.”

“No so fast,” Tim said. “If your hypothesis is correct, then we could have missed several other meetings all around Gotham. That means when Gordon tipped us off, someone tipped him off. Which means there’s probably someone in the police department working for him. How does he keep getting all these people?” Tim asked.

“Wait, who? You already know who your stalker with a need to kill is?” Jason asked.

Bruce sighed heavily. “I highly suspect that it’s the Joker. But I don’t actually have solid proof.”

“He found a strand of green hair in his own hair after his altercation with that assassin Miranda. I think that’s proof enough, Bruce.”

Bruce shook his head. “It still… doesn’t seem very likely. It sounds just a bit far-fetched.”

“But it’s all you have,” Jason finished.

Bruce nodded. “Yes.”

Tim shrugged. “Then we go with what Jason said.”

~

The next night, Bruce did skip the charity function. Instead, he dressed up as Batman, deciding to go hang around the botanical gardens just in case they were expecting Bruce Wayne to show up.

An hour into the greeting, Bruce noticed one of the guests constantly hanging around the refreshments table, avoiding conversation with nearly everyone. He also kept looking towards the doors.

Finally, as the events were winding down, the man exited through a side door, slipping around the back instead. So, they _were_ planning on making it tonight. Bruce followed the man, trialing him from a distance.

The man made his way through the extensive rose gardens, the over the gate in the back. He slipped into an alleyway across the street. The man must be heading back to the Boss now.

Bruce stayed silent on top of the building, looking down while the man paced, a phone held to his ear.

But before anyone answered, a shadow appeared behind him and a baseball bat slammed into the man’s head. Blood, skull and brain matter smeared against the brick wall. The body slumped onto the ground.

There was a soft sound.

“Well, you weren’t supposed to _die_.”

Bruce landed silently behind the newcomer, grabbing his bright purple collar. He pulled him back, slamming him into the wall, twisting the bloody bat out of his hand and pressing it against his throat.

“Bats!” Joker’s eyes were wide, as if he were _honestly_ surprised to see Bruce there. “ _Oh_ , shit, Bats!” Joker’s eyes flickered briefly to his escape routes. He laughed nervously. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Who was that man?” Bruce growled, pressing the bat tighter to his throat. “Did you kill him because he failed his task?”

“Failed his task? Batsy, I don’t know the first thing about that guy! Well, except I was _supposed_ to extract information from him, but then I think I hit him too hard, and he wasn’t _supposed_ to explode like that. How was I supposed to know?”

“Do you think you’re being funny?” Bruce asked. “Why did you kill him?”

“Again, Bats, listen. I didn’t mean to!”

“Like I’m going to believe that,” Bruce scoffed. “It’s because he failed to kill Bruce Wayne isn’t it? Because he isn’t even here tonight.”

Joker’s shoulders slumped. “Well, thank _goodness_ for that. If you just _told_ me that _before_ I smashed his head in, I might not have gone and done it. Well, now that that’s cleared up, mind letting me go?”

“Nothing’s cleared up! You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying, Batsy,” Joker said. He rolled his eyes, then lowered his voice to a hiss. “Look, I’m not even _supposed_ to be talking to you, so if you can let me go, pretty please?”

“…You’re working for someone?” Bruce asked, dumbfounded.

Joker made a face. “Eh… close enough. We’ll go with it. And they’re going to have my head, quite literally, if I don’t get back on time.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Joker’s expression turned panicked. “No, you _have_ to. Br-ats! You have to trust me on this.”

“Brats?”

Joker cleared his throat. “Sorry, sore throat.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still lying.” He tilted his head to the side slightly. “I’m taking you to Arkham.”

“No, no, no, please not now,” Joker begged. “I really-”

Bruce slammed him against the wall, shutting him up. “No, you don’t have a choice.”

Joker groaned, his eyes squeezed shut. “Damn it,” he muttered. Then he sighed heavily. “Okay, fine,” he said.

Bruce stopped. A silence followed. “Fine what?”

“Take me to Arkham. Quickly.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes!”

“You- You’d rather go to Arkham than face… whoever this is?”

“Yes, preferably. Now hurry, please?”

“…Okay.”

The drive to Arkham was mostly silent. Bruce tried to get more information out of Joker, but he could not get anything. So it was all very jumbled information that he did not even know if they were true.

“Who are you working for?” Bruce asked.

“Not supposed to be talking to you.”

“Who was the man you killed if he was not working for you?”

“Matthew Denvers. He did work for me once. But then I threatened to cut off his man bits so he ran. Never saw him ago until today.”

“And he was hired to kill Bruce Wayne, yes?”

“Don’t know if that counts as talking to you.”

“You already told me who he was, so what does it matter?”

Joker pulled a wincing face. “I was supposed to find out who he worked for.”

Bruce did his best to contain his surprise. “So he does not work for you? You- You didn’t hire someone to kill Wayne?”

“No,” Joker said, his handcuffs rattling. “But then you also don’t know who he’s working for. Great, we have a common enemy!”

“I’m not teaming up with you.”

“Of course not,” Joker said. He took a deep breath. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you either, so.”

And Joker stayed completely silent after that. Bruce dropped him off at Arkham, and he went ridiculously calmly. It made Bruce slightly suspicious, but he had bigger problems. Assuming Joker was telling the truth, there was someone he was working for. Who had enough power to control the Joker? And whoever it was, they were after the person who was targeting Bruce Wayne.

In that case, they were essentially on the same side. But Bruce had to wonder, how the hell did Joker get roped into this?

He wanted to turn around and go question him again, but he doubted that Joker would talk. So Bruce went back home.

~

Bruce was sitting in his office, pretending to work, but actually observing Abigail when he gets the call.

He answered it on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Father,” came Damian’s voice.

“Yes?” Bruce asked. Then, his eyes landed on the TV that he always kept on, but muted. It showed a slew of police chasing a bright red car. The headline made him freeze. _THE JOKER BREAKS OUT OF ARKHAM WITH HELP?_

It had barely been fifteen hours. Joker always stayed a couple days at least. It took him some time to come up with a plan at least, and he never got chased by police. This meant that it was an impromptu escape. And on top of that, someone helped him? That did not sound right either.

Damian said something, but Bruce missed it. “Uh, Damian, can I- can I call you back later?”

Damian stopped in the middle of what he was saying. “No! You cannot! Father, are you listening to me right now?”

Bruce sighed. “Something’s happening, I really need to go.”

“Father!” Damian snapped. “Listen to me!”

“Okay, hurry, Damian, please?”

There was a short but tense pause. “There are three black vans parked outside my school, right in the front. All the windows are tinted, and no one can see inside. They sent the security guard to check it out ten minutes ago. He hasn’t come back yet.”

Bruce stopped. “Are you sure? Damian, where are you right now?”

“Third floor,” he said. “In an empty classroom. Told the teacher I had to use the bathroom. Three men in black suits just got out of one of the vans. They’re heading up the steps. They have dark sunglasses on and one of them is carrying a suitcase. Father?”

“Hide, Damian. Get out of there if you can. Just- Just stay away from them.”

“They don’t seem to be armed. I think Jon and I can take them if we had to,” Damian said.

“I don’t doubt that,” Bruce said hurriedly, his eyes finally tearing away from the TV. “But whoever this person is, they’re very intent to come after me and they’re being less and less obvious now. If they’re going to kidnap you from your school in broad daylight, in Metropolis at that. Listen, stay there. I’ll call Clark. I have business here. Promise you’ll stay away?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said reluctantly.

“Good, okay. Go, Damian.” He ended the call. He immediately called Clark next. It rang five times before Clark picked up.

“Bruce, I’m at work right now,” Clark started. “I have a meeting in half an hour, can this wait?”

“No,” Bruce snapped. “I need you to get over to our sons’ school right now. I think someone’s going to kidnap my son.”

Clark went silent. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” Bruce said.

“They can’t handle a kidnapper?” Clark asked.

Bruce sighed, frustrated. “It’s a lot bigger than that right now. No, they can’t. I need you to go now, please!”

“Okay, okay,” Clark said. “But you’re explaining everything later!”

Bruce ended the call and he glanced back at the TV, which had changed to the weather. Bruce did not even know what was going on, let alone be able to explain it. He slumped into his seat.

A moment later, the news went back to the chase. The police had cornered the car. It was driven4 by two people, one wearing a green wig. Fakes. But the Joker _had_ disappeared from Arkham, so the red car had been a decoy.

What the hell was happening?

Bruce was thoroughly confused.

But at least half an hour later, Clark’s call came, assuring Damian was fine and the kidnappers had been caught.

And Bruce felt like he could breathe a little easier.

~

But things only got weirder. Bruce was halfway through patrol that night, then he found Joker sitting at the edge of a building, just sitting there, overlooking the city.

Oddly enough, it was the Wayne Enterprises Tower. Usually, the Joker did not bother coming out for a while after he escaped from Arkham.

But something had been going on, and Bruce wanted answers. He did not care if Joker was not allowed to talk to him. He _would_ talk.

Bruce walked up behind Joker quietly.

But then, he spoke.

"Have you... Have you ever wondered what death would be like? Actual death, no coming back, zip nada done," Joker asked, his voice heavy with something Bruce could not place. 

Bruce stared at Joker's back, waiting for there to be a punchline to the odd joke. He waited for a sly grin, a giggle, or maybe a brandishing of a button. Those things, Bruce knew how to deal with.

Instead, Joker asked another question. "Or- Or have you ever truly been in love with someone? Loved them so much, you look into their eyes and you choke up because you just realize how amazing of a person they are and how much you don't deserve them? Hmm, Batsy? You're smart and handsome. Surely you've been in love before?"

Joker's shoulders dropped a little when Bruce did not answer. "It's okay," he said quietly. "None of my business, I get it. But I think I would have done anything for him. Anything. If he sincerely asked me to stop..." Joker trailed off. "I think I would have stopped."

Bruce was a little alarmed by this. Surely no one could have Joker so enamored to have this amount of power over him, right? Maybe Joker was talking about the person he was working for? Were they romantically involved? But the only one of Joker’s relationships that Bruce knew of was the one with Harley. But could that even count as a relationship? Joker had to be lying, no matter how real the little cracks of his voice or the tensing of his fingers were.

Bruce walked over slowly, his boots crunching loudly on the gravel. This was going to be a horrible idea, but at least Joker was talking. "You're seeing someone?" He asked lowly.

"The Bat talks after all," Joker mused. He watched as Bruce sat down next to him. Then he turned back to watch the city. "Saw. He's gone now."

Bruce tensed.

"Not dead gone. We just... weren't meant to be, I guess." He chuckled sadly. "I could have sworn we were. It was a match made in heaven, then burned out by the fires of hell. Maybe this is Fate's punishment? For everything I've done? Do you think so?" Joker turned to look at Bruce. Bruce kept his face blank.

"If the universe is punishing you, you probably deserve it."

Bruce looked at Joker's face, not expecting the most heartbreaking expression he'd ever seen the clown make. Unshed tears made his eyes bright. His shoulders were slumped and his makeup running from crying. Bruce nearly regretted his response.

But Joker turned away. "You're right," he whispered. "He was too good for me anyway. I would just ruin his life."

Previously, Bruce thought the Joker was talking about Batman, but now he wasn't so sure. 

"Would you miss me?" Joker suddenly asked.

"What?"

"If I died. Would you miss me?" He asked again. His eyes were pinned on the horizon.

"Joker..."

"I'm not planning on killing myself if that's what you're thinking. But if I just didn't make it one day, something goes wrong, couldn't save myself in time, would you miss me?"

Bruce thought about it. He had never thought about what would happen if Joker died. Certainly his life would be easier.

"Do you want me to miss you?" Bruce asked out of curiosity.

Joker shrugged. "I don't know. But of you did, I would go peacefully knowing someone would. But in reality, you've wanted me out of your city for ever now, so you probably wouldn't. It's okay though. I think I can live with that." But his voice cracked, his emotions showing through again.

"Would your... ex-lover miss you?" Bruce asked. Okay, maybe Joker was not working for his mysterious ex. But he had to keep Joker talking. And though Bruce was not good at dealing with feelings, but he certainly has talked his boys out of a few heartbreaks.

"No, he wouldn't," Joker said. Two tears fell out of his eyes and he scrubbed at them furiously. "And I don't want him to. He's proved to me he didn't need me in his life several times over, and he's..." Joker swallowed hard. "He should be happy. I don't know why he isn't."

It did not make any sense to Bruce. Whoever this ex-lover of Joker's was, sure was one hell of a man. He does not miss the Joker, yet he is not happy either. None of it made any sense and that's why Bruce hates talking about feelings. He could feel a headache growing already.

"Just talk to him or something." Bruce growled gruffly.

"Wish I could. But I'm not allowed to."

Bruce grunted. So whoever Joker was working for had refused him from talking to his ex as well as Batman? Who _was_ this person? Then, Bruce took a deep breath. He hoped Joker would not take this the wrong way. "When has that ever stopped you?"

The faintest of smiles appeared on Joker's face. "Not usually. This time, my hands are tied."

Bruce could not but help feel a bit annoyed. "Who is this man of yours? Never once have you ever let anyone control you or affect you in such a drastic way. Are you being mind controlled or something?"

"No. But I wish he did not affect me this way."

"So you regret it."

"No!" Joker sounded appalled that Bruce had the audacity to suggest that. "Fuck, no, I would never! I regret everything I've ever done more than I regret loving him."

Bruce got a weird feeling in his chest, a weird, warm, fluttery feeling. He did not like it. Bruce frowned.

"What's wrong, Batsy? Not jealous, are you?" Joker teased half-heartedly.

Bruce frowned harder. Could he actually be feeling upset because Joker's attention was focused on someone else?

"No," he growled.

"It's okay," Joker said, waving his hand vaguely. "I- I-" he choked on his words as tears welled up in his eyes again. He opened his mouth a few more times. Then, he looked at Bruce hard and for a long time, as if searching for something in the mask. "I think I'm going to go." He stood up quickly. "Thanks for... listening." He started crying again.

Then, he disappeared, leaving Bruce standing there, completely dumbfounded and as confused as ever.


	4. Where Houses?

Bruce had no idea where to start or what to follow. Never had he had so much information bombarded at him, none of which seemed to have anything to do with each other, but he was just _sure_ they did.

But how?

Bruce was frustrated and tired, having spent the entire night up. He did not know when this person planned on attacking again, or how? Bruce was starting to doubt that the Joker was behind all this. While some evidence did point in his direction, a lot of it did not.

The police department also provided no answers. They had brought in the messengers of Bruce’s stalker for questioning, but nothing important came out of that. Bruce was very, very frustrated. Not only had all his leads practically crumbled to dust and he was back to square one, but Joker, who was also, oddly enough, searching for Bruce’s stalker, seemed to be having some emotional crisis.

Bruce had the security tapes of the GCPD running in the background while he thought, keeping an eye on the prisoners. They were his only connection to the stalker as of far, even if they have not been useful yet.

The tapes flashed at one point and Bruce looked up. Then, as if someone had snapped their fingers, there were four dead men. And out of the corner of one frame, the edge of a coat disappeared. Bruce got to his feet. Someone had just killed the four messengers.

He needed to investigate further. Bruce quickly put on the rest of the suit and rushed to the police department. He went in through the back entrance. He could not have police standing by him while he checked for clues.

Bruce knew that the murderer must have gone in through the back or an open window since no alarm was raised. And they must have picked the lock on the door if that were the case.

Bruce carefully made his way to the holding cells, picking the lock and stepping inside. He knelt down by the first victim, Scarface. He pressed two gloved fingers to his neck, even though he was nearly certain Scarface was dead. No pulse. Bruce pulled Scarface’s head up a bit by his hair.

A gruesome smile stretched across Scarface’s face. A red rag was stuffed in his mouth, unfortunately reminding Bruce of a roast pig with an apple in its mouth. Under his face was a Joker card, facing up. He dropped Scarface on his face again. Bruce grimaced.

Bruce went over to Scarface’s cellmate, which was slumped in the corner, underneath the camera, so in the tapes, Bruce only saw his legs. He pulled his head up and saw another grotesque smile, a pair of bulging eyes and a gag in his mouth.

Bruce heard a light huff from behind him. He spins around. From the darkness of the empty cell across the way, Bruce saw a flash of white teeth in a smile, then, the wall blew out and they ran.

Bruce growled and frantic shouts came from within the building. He did not have time to deal with police right now. He charged out of the cell, through the smoking hole in the building just as the murderer, it had to be the murderer slipped around the corner, a white gloved hand wiggling a few fingers before disappearing.

Bruce knew that all the signs pointed to it being the Joker. Logically, it was the Joker that killed four men. But Bruce’s gut feeling told him he was wrong. This was not Joker’s style of teasing. He was much more into the verbal taunting. He never paused to make sure Batman was keeping up, rarely even bothering to look over his shoulder. Joker was a verbal person.

And if this person had been watching Bruce while he examined the victims the entire time, they must have managed to get out and back in again during the time it took for Bruce to get to the police department. Then, they sat there silently without making a single word. It just was not Joker’s style.

But the Joker venom was not used by anyone else. Not even copycats could get their hands on the recipe that only Joker and maybe a Scarecrow knew. So either this _was_ Joker, or this copycat was crazy good.

Bruce followed the murderer, not having to worry whether or not he would lose them. He often caught flashes of purple slowing down, green hair turning to see if Bruce was still there, of white gloves peeking around corners.

It was suspicious that they wanted Bruce following them, and it was probably a trap, but Bruce really needed answers. This was the first time the murderer had shown themselves, so Bruce could not afford to not follow.

Bruce saw the figure duck into an abandoned warehouse, another one of Joker’s favorite confrontation spots. He slowed, not yet approaching the building. He scanned the perimeter and found no one hiding there. Then, he used his heat sensors to scan the interior of the warehouse.

Only one person, standing in the middle of the first floor, waiting.

Bruce took a deep breath and started forward towards the warehouse. He reached for the doorknob, and just as he was about to open it, something slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, hard.

At the same time, gunshots rang out, as well as the sound of windows breaking.

Glass rained down on him, and Bruce turned away as it did so.

He was quickly pulled up against the side of the warehouse.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Joker hissed, glaring at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the world’s greatest detective? Even I could tell it was a trap, but I don’t look like a genius to you, do I?”

Bruce decided not to comment that Joker kind of _was_ a genius. Evil, but a genius. “What are _you_ doing here?” Bruce growled instead. Whoever was inside the building continued shooting, even though there seemed to be no other target in sight.

“Saving your ass, apparently,” Joker grumbled. “I fucking swear this is the reason I don’t leave the house.”

Bruce swore that Joker keeps getting weirder and weirder each time he runs into him. “So you were following me?”

“I was following them,” he said, jerking his head towards the warehouse. “Have been for a couple days now. Everyone else has been fucking useless. Not to mention, I don’t need to be babysitting _you_ on top of all that.”

“Babysitting me?”

Joker scoffed. “With the mess you are? Practically spoon feeding, at this point. You’ve got no heads or tails to this thing and you’re still jumping in head first like you know what you’re doing. This ain’t a poker game, Bats. Bluffing’s not gonna help you here.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bruce asked.

“Listen to me, you idiotic rodent,” Joker growled, his grip on Bruce’s wrist suddenly a lot tighter. “I don’t need you interfering with my work. I have a lot more on my plate than you think, and you’re certainly not helping. So unless you want this city to go down in flames, you stay the fuck out of my way and let me do my thing.”

The shooting stopped.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Joker sneered. “We have to go.”

“ _What_?!” Bruce asked, not at all following anything Joker just said.

“Run!” Joker snarled, jumping to his feet and pulling Bruce away from the warehouse. They were halfway across the lot when Joker tackled Bruce again, just as the entire warehouse exploded behind them, flames licking the skies. Joker landed on Bruce hard. He quickly rolled off, turning over and glaring at the burning building.

High-pitched, crazy laughter rose up from the remains of the building. It sounded exactly like Joker’s laugh.

But Joker was scowling, hard.

“That’s fucking messed up," he growled.

~

Bruce knew now that he was looking for someone who looked like Joker, acted like Joker, pretended to be Joker, and wanted to kill Bruce Wayne. As far as Bruce could tell, this person had to know he was Batman.

This fact worried him. Not many people knew Bruce Wayne was Batman. He could literally list everyone on his fingers. Lucius Fox, Jim Gordon, Alfred, the rest of his kids, Clark and his family, a few other JL members, Selina… that’s literally everyone.

So unless someone figured out whom he was, Bruce was missing something. None of the people above seemed like they would betray Bruce, not with something of this importance.

Bruce was very careful with his identity, as far as he was concerned. Sure, he may have been a tiny bit careless here and there, but certainly no one has figured it out from a couple of slips, right?

Bruce jumped onto another rooftop, frowning hard. He stood, looking over a dimly lit street, lost in thought.

He did not sense the person sneaking up behind him until it was too late. The person snapped a wire of some sort around his body, pulling him backwards.

Bruce crashed to the ground, arms trapped to his side. He used his legs to jump to his feet, narrowly avoiding a knife thrown at his face. He kicked at his attacker, his leg colliding with their side. All Bruce heard with a light gasp and then something hit him hard over the top of the head, and he blacked out.

Bruce woke up in a warehouse. The second warehouse of the night. He was on his knees. Immediately, Bruce knew he had been restrained, quite well, at that. It would take quite a bit of time to get out of. His hands were tied tightly with rough ropes that were too tight. His arms were also shackled to the concrete floor. His feet were also tied up. Thankfully, his kidnapper did not blindfold him nor did they gag him. However, his cowl was pulled off his head, showing his identity to whoever was hiding in the darkness.

In fact, the warehouse was pitch black. But Bruce knew there were other people in the room. He could feel shifting behind him, and there were light sounds of struggle in front of him.

Suddenly, a bright spotlight shone on him from above, making him squint and shy away a bit. As he blinked, getting used to the light, he looked around again. Still could not see anything.

Then, another spotlight turned on in front of him. And Bruce’s eyes nearly bugged out, had he not spent so many years perfecting his poker face.

Tied to a lavish gold throne was Joker. His wrists were bound tightly to the arms, and his feet to the bottom as well. A gag had been stuffed in his mouth. And a heavy gold crown was sitting crooked on his head.

If that weren’t surprising enough, his eyes were red and puffy, like he had been crying profusely. Dark circles left sunken crescents under his eyes as well. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he was going to fall asleep at any given moment, had he not looked so terrified.

Which actually alarmed Bruce more than anything. He had just seen Joker earlier that night. How the hell had he gone from berating Bruce’s every word to this mess? Joker’s eyes were pinned on Bruce, and he was struggling and making desperate noises.

Then, somewhere out of the darkness, Joker’s voice said, “Ah, I see you’re awake.” It did sound uncannily like Joker, even though he was tied up in front of Bruce, gagged. But Joker’s voice had a certain rasp behind hit. This one didn’t. “Welcome, Mister Wayne. We’ve been waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER! And things are barely unraveling! The last chapter will reveal so much, so I hope you guys are ready for it. It will be the final chapter of this series and I'll be done with it. I'm actually kind of really sad because I love this serious so much, and I especially love the triplets. I have always wanted to write a twins/triplets story of some sort, and never managed to do it well enough, but I finally have something I really love.
> 
> Also, I was doing some research on the main confrontation scene, where Bruce was all tied up? Not all too sexy, all bloody and beat up etc, but I wanted to know what knot was hardest to get out of, right? And I just kept getting BDSM pages. I mean, some of them were kinda helpful? But I was not looking for sexy knots, thank you. He was tied up by rope, not silks and ties. Seriously? Does no one write just about knots anymore?
> 
> And I know I still have one chapter left, but I really, really want to thank everyone who's reading this right now. I know a lot of people who read the stories probably skip over the author's note at the end, especially since mine are so damn long. But I appreciate all your support so damn much. Those of you who read the very first story, a tiny little fluff/crack piece that ended up in this giant crazy adventure. Those of you who supported me through the writers' block period, where I was so worried I would not have the will to finish this series. But I'm so glad I did, and I'm so glad you guys are all here to read it. So thank you!
> 
> Leave me a comment, one last chance to tell me what you think before it's all revealed! <3


	5. When All's Said and Done

Another spotlight comes on, this time to Joker’s left. A tall figure stood in the light, facing downwards.

All Bruce could see was a black magician’s top hat. The figure had on white gloves, the white gloves Bruce had been chasing earlier that night. They were tapping their fingers on their thigh, to a rhythm no one else could hear.

The person was dressed in what looked like a magician’s outfit as well, but in a dark purple. They had on a deep eggplant colored vest and matching slacks. A light lavender purple button up underneath the vest, rolled up to the elbows, revealing pale white skin. A purple bowtie was fixed around the person’s throat.

But in addition to all that, Bruce’s eyes were drawn to the long green hair. It was thick and curly, going all the way to the small of the person’s back.

The figure looks up slowly, smiling. A girl. No, a young woman. Her face was the same deathly white as Joker, her unnaturally eyes done prettily in heavy purple eyeshadow and her thick lips were lined in bright red. When she smiled, she revealed two rows of perfect white teeth.

She took a couple steps forward, the spotlight following. She stopped and sat on the arm of the throne, her gloved hand trailing up Joker’s arm. Bruce noticed that Joker’s fingers tensed and curled as he glared at her. Given, he did not look as threatening while gagged and exhausted.

“You must be wondering what you’re doing here,” the woman said, her voice a near perfect imitation of Joker’s, but it was a tad less raspy. Oddly enough, it sounded even more grating than Joker’s actual voice.

“Not really,” Bruce said.

The Female Joker’s eyebrows raised, arching perfectly. Her lips formed a curious pout. “Oh? You’re not?”

Bruce shrugged the best he could.

“Well, I’ll explain for this cutie pie then,” she said, smiling down at Joker, and swiping her thumb across his cheek. He leaned away from her. “You see,” she started, looking off into the darkness. “I was inspired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Bruce said with a snort.

“Zip it, Bats,” she snarled. Then, she went back to smiling. “I had a dream this one night. I killed the Batman. I brought his broken body over and placed it at your feet,” she said, looking at Joker again, who’s eyes just kept getting wider and wider. “You praised me. You said it was the most anyone’s ever done for you. Even Harley Quinn hadn’t done something so great! So I knew. I must kill the Batman.” She then shrugged. “But so many have tried killing the Bat and they’ve all failed. After all, the flying rat’s still going around Gotham, isn’t he? So I got some help,” she said, flashing Bruce a dangerous smile.

Bruce glowered at her.

“Oh, yes. This _friend_ of mine gave me some pretty useful information. Imagine the horror when I heard it! He said,” she started laughing, throwing her head back. “He said that there were three, yes _three,_ Jokers in Gotham. And one of them, this pretty one here,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. She leaned in close to Joker, who closed his eyes and leaned away again. “was dating the big, bad Bat. It had to be brainwashing. There’s no other way. Batman and Joker? That just was not plausible. So I-”

Bruce finally could not take any more. “Look, girl,” he said, annoyance slipping into his voice. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. But usually, criminals hurry it up with their speech and get to the actual killing part quicker. And while I would love for more time to escape these bonds, I really don’t need you spouting idiocies while I’m trying to work.”

She stopped talking. “I’m sorry? What did I say that was a lie?”

“Everything. Don’t you think I would have _known_ if there were three Jokers in my city? I’m pretty sure three Jokers would have put Gotham in flames long, long ago. And- And anyone with any sense would not date the Joker.”

The woman gave him an odd look. “Mr. Wayne. There’s no need trying to pretend anymore. I’ve figured you out. You just look stupid.”

Bruce frowned. “I’m not pretending.”

Then, another voice spoke up. “He is not pretending.”

A fourth spotlight lit up, on Joker’s right side. Bruce looked at him and his eyes narrowed.

“Bane,” he growled. “I thought you were dead.”

Bane laughed, the sound wheezy. He ignored Bruce. “He isn’t pretending, Dent,” he repeated. “He doesn’t… remember. Why doesn’t he remember?” Bane looked down at Joker, who also glared at him.

“Remember what?” Bruce asked, not very happy at being ignored.

“Ungag him, Dent. He can’t talk with that in his mouth, now can he?” Bane asked, threats lacing his patient tone.

The woman, Dent, rolled her eyes and then pulled Joker’s gag out. Joker immediately licked his lips, teasing over the corners of his scars. His eyes flickered to Bruce for a split second.

“Why doesn’t he remember, Jay?” Bane asked.

“Don’t,” Joker whispered. “Please don’t. He-” Joker stopped, looking at Bruce again. “He can’t remember.”

“And why’s that?”

Joker looked over at Bruce again and just slowly shook his head.

Bane smirked. “Well. That explains _this_.” He gestured to Joker. Bruce assumed that it was referring to his physical appearance.

Dent sighed, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. “Whatever. Either way, he’s a distraction to you. We can’t have him alive and running around Gotham. He’ll just thwart our every plan. He’s not good enough for you, Jay. Look at him! He’s pathetic! You deserve so much more than a flying rat, beautiful.”

“It’s my _job_ to stop criminals,” Bruce said through gritted teeth. “You do realize that you can’t be a villain if there’s no one to stop you, right? And I don’t play favorites among the bad guys.”

Bane laughed, and Dent joined in. “That’s what you don’t understand,” Bane said. “We’re not looking to play villains anymore, Batman. We’re going to purge Gotham City of the likes of you and built a new age from the ashes. _We’ll_ be the new heroes.”

Bruce snorted. “New heroes? I-”

Dent growled, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Enough!” She screamed. Joker flinched at her sudden rise in pitch. “You’re talking too much, _Batman_. Time to die,” she snarled, pulling a knife from her sleeve and starting forward.

“Don’t! Please, don’t!” Joker pleaded, leaning forward suddenly, held back by his bonds. “Duela, don’t hurt him, _please_!”

Bruce had never heard Joker beg before. Especially not in the face of death. It just was not a weakness he showed. In fact, Bruce did not even know if the Joker had been capable of emotions beyond the insane wish to bathe in the blood of all of Gotham.

But the blade was still pressed against Bruce’s neck, pressing inwards hard. Bruce glared up at Dent, holding himself up tall. He still had not gotten out of the ropes yet.

“Sorry, babe,” Dent cooed. “You don’t have a say in this. You’ll thank me one day, I promise you. You’ll see. He’s got you under some sort of sick spell, and I’m gonna break it! Otherwise, you’re completely useless to your me and your brothers,” she giggled. “Don’t want to upset big bro any more, right?”

The knife pressed deeper against Bruce’s skin. He gritted his teeth but did not react otherwise. He let his eyes close, ready to die with dignity.

Then, from behind them all, someone said, “Who said I’d be upset?”

Dent was so shocked she actually stumbled backwards, landing on her ass. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw dropped open.

“J-John?” she asked.

Bruce could hear heels walking up from behind him. Someone, no, two people were heading towards them in the dark.

“That’s right, girly,” the voice said. Then, stepping out into Bruce’s spotlight. Holy shit, it was Joker.

Bruce looked from the Joker standing beside him to the one sitting on the throne, tense and pulling at the bonds.

A second later, someone stopped on Bruce’s other side. It was another Joker. Bruce felt lightheaded. There were actually _three_ Jokers in Gotham City? He kind of wanted to throw up, but held himself up by sheer force of will.

The Joker on his right ran a hand through Bruce’s hair. “Hey, Bats,” he said. “I leave you alone for two hours and you get yourself into this mess? What a fucking moron, you are.”

Bruce jerked his head away. He glanced at the third Joker, who just gave him a little smile and a wink.

What the fuck was going on.

The Joker Dent had called “John” spoke first. He took a step forward, a new spotlight appearing to follow him. “So, _Duela_ ,” he said, rolling the name on his tongue. “Mind telling my why my baby brother’s tied up there like some present on Christmas morning?”

Dent’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She scrambled to get to her feet, but John kicked her in the stomach, sending her flying to the foot of the throne. “I- I was-”

“I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses,” John snarled. Then, he whipped his gaze to Bane, who had been watching silently. “And _you_.” His voice was dripping with revulsion. “I spared you once, I’m not going to do it again.”

“Come now, John,” Bane said. “Let’s think about this rationally. We don’t want this to end b-”

A loud gunshot. Followed by several others. Then, silence. John stood there, holding a gun, still smoking. Bane fell to his knees then fell forward on his face, convulsing and flopping around.

John tucked his gun away, turning back around, noticing Bruce’s alarmed and slightly revolted look.

“Special bullets,” he explained with a shrug. “They explode when they hit their target. And they’re filled with Joker venom.” Then, from all around the warehouse, people started moving forward. "Stand down, or I'll kill you all," he snarled.

Then, he turned around to the girl. “Now, what are we going to do with you?” he asked, his voice oddly sweet. Shivers ran down Bruce’s spine. “What do you think, Jack?”

Jack smiled down at Bruce again. Then, he stepped forward towards John. Whoever was controlling the spotlights was doing a very good job, in spite of the dangerous situation. “Well, I brought my mallet.”

“Hm,” John said. Then, he looked up. “You’re the one she wronged,” he said. “What do you think, Jay?”

Jay glared at Dent, who cowered on her knees, her eyes flickering between the three Jokers. Bruce hoped to get out of there _before_ their attention went back to him. But he still could not get out of the damn bonds!

“Kill her,” Jay sneered. “She was going to- to-” His voice cracked, tears welling up in his green eyes again.

Jack – maybe John? – sat down on the arm of the gold throne, making gently shushing noises. He then pressed Jay’s head to his side, wiping his tears with his hand. “I know, I know,” he said quietly.

John smirked down at Dent. “Hear that, girly? Looks like I’m not the only one you angered. I heard that _whole_ monologue you had tonight. Your little moment of glory? Well, let me tell you that I don’t agree with anything you said. First of all, Jay isn’t useless to us. Sure he’s a bit emotionally compromised recently, but he’s not useless. Also, Bats isn’t pathetic. We _like_ having him around, thwarting our plans, as you put it. Keeps us on our toes. And he makes it fun, despite lacking a sense of humor.”

Bruce could not believe what he was hearing.

“So for your crimes against my brothers and I, against Batman, against Bruce Wayne, against all of Gotham City… I sentence you to death, Duela Dent,” he said, finishing with a smug sneer. “Have at her, Jack.”

Bruce had to look away as the sickening crack of skull against concrete and the scream cut off by the cracking noise. Sounds of gunshots followed, going around the entire perimeter of the warehouse.

When it was silent again, Bruce cracked his eyes open. It was a massacre. All the guards were dead. Dent was dead. There was a mallet covered in green hair, blood, and brain matter. John looked immensely pleased. Jack looked a little miffed at the state of his mallet. And Jay just looked completely exhausted. Bruce felt about the same way.

Jack walked  over, kneeling down in front of Bruce.

“Hey, Bats,” he said with a smile. He tapped the bat symbol on his chest. “Glad you know that you’re back.”

Bruce must have looked confused.

“Oh, yeah, you gave up the mantle a while back. Long story, actually. Doesn’t really matter anyway.” His voice turned a bit wry at the end. Then, he dug out a knife. “I’m going to cut you free, okay? Don’t- Don’t punch me.”

Jack slowly and cautiously cut through all of Bruce’s bonds. When he finished, he stepped back. Bruce stood, rubbing his wrists.

Bruce looked between Jack and John, both of which were waiting for his next move. He just nodded at Dent’s mangled body with a grimace. “Who was she?” he asked.

Jack seemed to relax. “Duela Dent, Two-Face’s daughter. Well,” Jack laughed. “We’re not a hundred percent sure. She’s called herself many things over the years.” He went over to Jay, who had slumped in his throne, crown now dangling off his head and his eyes were closed. He started working Jay free as well.

John took over the explanation. “Called herself many things as in claiming to be everyone’s daughter. And for the past year and a half, she would introduce herself as ‘Joker’s daughter’.” He made a face at that. “We managed to keep her… occupied most of the time, outside of the city. Sending her on impossible errands, after people who just didn’t exist, whatever it took. We didn’t know she was back in Gotham, nor did we know she was after you.”

Bruce frowned at the body. He wanted to get angry at the fact that there were several dead bodies in the room, but it was him against three Jokers. He decided to play it safe.

“And who are you guys working for?” Bruce asked.

John made a strange face. “We’re not working for anyone. Since when do we work for other people?”

Jack smiled sheepishly as he cut through the last bond. He helped Jay to his feet, the crown clattering to the ground. “I may have… alluded to the fact that I was working for someone. I said I would be in trouble if I talked to him. But I was referring to you, John,” Jack said.

Bruce’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re the oldest?” he asked John.

John nodded. He gave Bruce a strange look. “You _really_ don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Huh. Well, it was an accident,” John said. “You accidentally drank the memory serum instead of water, wiping all your memories of us. We decided maybe it was best that you forgot everything anyway. It caused a lot of trouble for you and for us when you did know.”

“You decided,” Jay’s voice said quietly. “You decided. I didn’t.”

John gave him an annoyed half-glance. “Okay, I decided. And I _also_ managed to get Alfred to agree as well.”

Bruce’s eyebrows went up further. He could not hide his surprise this time. “Alfred knew this whole time?”

John shrugged. “He helped administer the serum to the rest of your brood. So they also forgot.”

Bruce’s hands curled into fists. “You _poisoned-_ ”

“Not poisoned,” John interrupted. “I fixed everything, Bruce. You don’t understand. Everything was fine before you found out about the three of us, and it was fine after I gave you all the serum. You forgot everything. It was all good!”

There was a brief pause. Then, Jay said, “No, it wasn’t.” He looked from John to Bruce. Then, he pushed Jack away and tore out of the warehouse, disappearing into the darkness.

“Jay!” Jack yelled after him. But Jay was gone. Jack sighed heavily. He looked over at Bruce. “Hey, B, can you- can you go after him? Please? I don’t think he’ll talk to either John or I.”

John snorted. “He’s just sensitive. He’ll get over it eventually. Don't bother.”

“Get over what?” Bruce asked, a warning tone on his voice.

John shrugged. “He’s still heartbroken over you.”

“So- So Dent wasn’t lying?” Bruce asked. “He and I- We were-”

“In love?” John asked with a sneer of his lips. “Disgustingly.”

Jack gave John a glare. “Stop it,” he chided softly. He pulled out a small slip of paper. He pressed it into Bruce’s hand. “You’ll find Jay there.”

John groaned. “You were _planning_ on giving him the address to our safe house?”

Jack shrugged. “In case any emergency came up. Please, Bruce,” Jack said. “Jay- Jay needs you. I know you don’t remember anything, but Jay’s been destroying himself over it. It’s never been like this before.”

Bruce’s mind flashed back to that night on top of Wayne Tower. He swallowed hard, looking from Jack to John. John sighed and then nodded short. “Go,” Jack said. “We’ll clean up here.”

Bruce gave them a slightly dubious look, then hurried out of the warehouse.

~

It was just another apartment in the Narrows. He found the door unlocked. Bruce slipped inside. The interior _was_ strangely familiar. While none of it _looked_ familiar, it felt familiar. Bruce had a feeling if he closed his eyes, he could find his way around perfectly. A few memories, ones that Bruce did not even know he possessed, started floating into his mind. None of it made much sense though.

He let his feet guide him to Jay’s room. He pushed open the half ajar door.

There were several cardboard boxes on the ground of Jay’s room. Most of them were still sealed. A few were opened and its contents on the ground around the box or on the table. A box full of drawings and sketches of all kinds was half-shoved under the temporary bed.

But there was one box that caught Bruce’s attention. It held only a few things. Newspaper and magazine clippings.

Taking a closer look, Bruce realized that all the clippings were on his face, smiling for the camera either at an event or for a photoshoot. A few pictures of Batman were thrown in there as well.

Jay was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Beside him was a TIME magazine, one from a couple years back. It was the one with Bruce’s face on the cover, and a four page open up panel of him, sitting down with his legs stretched out on a couch.

Bruce vaguely remembered that shoot.

“Well?” Jay asked, his voice sounding hollow and empty. “Don’t you have anything to say? Are you angry? Confused? Pitying? _Disgusted?_ ”

“Why would I be disgusted?” Bruce asked.

Jay rolled over, his back to Bruce now. Bruce realized that Jay’s head was propped up on a mass of black. One of Batman’s capes.

“Why wouldn’t you be disgusted?” Jay asked. “It’s me. I can count on one hand the number of people who would not be disgusted if they found out they once dated the Joker. And Bruce Wayne is not one of them.”

Bruce forced himself forward and sat down gently at the edge of Jay’s cot.

“I’m not disgusted,” Bruce insisted. “A little upset, a little lied to, but not disgusted.”

“You feel lied to?” Jay asked, rolling over again. “Why the hell do you feel lied to of all things?”

“That night on the roof. You said you could not do anything about your situation. You said he wouldn’t miss you, you said you- we weren’t meant to be. Why didn’t you just tell me then? I was listening!” Bruce asked, sighing heavily.

“I told you, it was out of my control! You drank the memory potion. You forgot about _me_. And- And John said it might be for the best. If none of you and your birdies knew about the three of us, it would be better. And Jack agreed. So they forbade me from seeing you, from telling you, from talking to you. I escaped that night, hoping to get some fresh air for a while, and you showed up. I had already spent so much time crying over you, seeing your face only made it worse.” Jay took a shaky breath.

“I looked at you, and there was no… there was no recognition in your face. There was no tenderness to your voice. And I just- I could not do it, okay? I thought about what John had said. How so much mess could have been avoided, how I could have been perfectly happy if I had not gotten to know the man under the mask, and how Batman would not be emotionally compromised and frustrated all the time. So it’s kind of a valid reason,” Jay concluded weakly. “Then, Bane had to go and fuck it all up.” Jay looked up at Bruce, his eyes watery, but he smiled nonetheless. “There is still some of the memory serum left. Just a few drops will wipe out pretty much everything you relearned about us in the past few days.”

Jay started to sit up. “It’s just in John's room-”

“Did I say I wanted to have my memory tampered with again?” Bruce growled.

Jay froze. “I assumed-”

“Right, you assumed,” Bruce said. “That’s what you’ve been doing this whole time. Assuming. You assumed I would be disgusted by you. You assumed I would not miss you. You assumed I would not have liked to know. You assumed it would all be better if I just forgot, right? Well you were wrong, Jay.” Bruce pulled off the cowl, wanting Jay to see he was completely serious. “So fucking wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Jay whispered. He curled up into himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and tears automatically spilled over.

Bruce forgot his anger almost immediately. He felt a sharp pang of guilt go through him. “Fuck, no, Jay, I didn’t mean to pin it on you. It’s not your fault.” A thought swam up to him. Jay was the emotional one, the most emotionally unstable, and fuck, he feels to the fullest possible extent. “Shit, Jay, I’m sorry,” Bruce scooted towards him, reaching out for Jay.

Jay shook his head, his green hair flopping into his face before he buried his face in his arms and cried softly.

Bruce finally pulled Jay in, hugging him to his chest. It was an oddly familiar position. Bruce put his chin in the top of Jay’s head and breathed in. Jay smelled faintly of green apples, and more strongly of smoke and something sugary. Then underneath all that, there was the slightest hint of leather and Bruce’s cologne. His eyes fell onto the cape.

“Jay, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t trying to blame you, I was just upset.”

Jay’s sniffles were broken by a few muffled words.

“What? C’mon, talk to me.”

Jay lifted his head the a bit. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Yes, but I meant it, too,” Bruce said. He shifted himself backwards onto the cot, and the springs squeaked in protest. Bruce pulled Jay between his legs and wrapped his arms tightly around Jay’s chest. He rested his face on Jay’s shoulder. “I meant it.”

“Okay,” Jay whispered. He released his legs and used both arms to hug one of Bruce’s arms to his own chest.

They sat there silently for a while. Bruce closed his eyes and just soaked himself in Jay’s presence. It were as if all the memories were just slowly floating up from murky waters and becoming clearer. He started remembering some things. A giant pink teddy bear, lipstick marks, lots of pizza, a kidnapping, a big fight and an accident, a shit ton of clones, and the memory serum.

As all the pieces finally started falling into place, Bruce asked, “So this depression of yours,” he asked softly, his voice a soothing tenor. “Is it something I should be worried about?”

Jay did not answer for a few moments. “Well, it also comes with anxiety, bipolarity, schizophrenia, psychopathy, antisocial personality disorder and quite a few others, according to doctors.”

Bruce cracked half a smile. He breathed a slight huff of a laugh into Jay’s ear, and Jay giggled lightly in response.

“Well, I’m not asking what the doctors say, am I? What do you think?” Bruce whispered, nosing gently at Jay’s ear.

Jay held his breath for a moment. “I… I don’t know. No one’s ever asked me.”

“I’m asking you right now.”

“I think- I think I just feel too much. I can’t exactly say what’s _wrong_ with me, but I can’t stop feeling. Sometimes I hate it because I can’t control any of it,” Jay whispered.

“I never said anything is wrong with you,” Bruce said. “Maybe you are right, you and your brothers. Maybe the rest of the world and I are wrong. And I like that you feel. Because then, you can feel the upmost happiness when I tell you I love you,” Bruce whispered.

Jay froze. He did not move at all. Bruce was worried he had died right then and there, but with his hand pressed up against Jay’s heart, Bruce could just feel it beating faster.

Jay started trembling.

“Jay? Are you okay?” Bruce asked, lifting his head up from Jay’s shoulder.

“You’ve never said that before,” Jay said, awed.

“I know,” Bruce said, his own nervousness calming down. “I know. I should have. I’m sorry.”

Jay suddenly turned around so that he was sitting facing Bruce. He rested his arms on Bruce’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. Bruce let himself get lost in the bright green and the flecks of gold and the slight ring of blue.

Jay ran a hand up Bruce’s neck, up to his chin and cupped his cheek.

“Are you sure?” Jay asked, leaning in an inch.

“Am I sure what?” Bruce breathed, his eyes falling to those ruby red lips.

“That you love me.”

Bruce pulled back, making a confused face. “I wouldn’t I be sure?”

“You just can’t take it back anymore,” Jay said.

Bruce frowned slightly. “Why do you think I’ll take it back?”

Jay sat back a bit, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, no longer looking at Bruce.

Bruce decided that he would need to look into this Jay’s state of sadness. It seemed like he was so afraid of someone taking away what he has. He would not even let himself get too excited about something just in case someone takes it away. Bruce looked at the closed off expression on Jay’s face and he felt choked up.

“Fuck, Jay, I won’t take it back, I promise. Not from you, not ever. Even if one day the Fates do decide we’re not meant to be together, I won’t take it back. I won’t take anything from you,” Bruce said, feeling an overwhelming sense to reassure Jay and protect him from the world. He mentally reminded himself to kick John’s ass the next time he sees him.

Jay tentatively looked up. Then he tackled Bruce in a hug, his arms around Bruce’s neck, and his face pressed tightly into Bruce’s hair.

“I’m never letting you go,” Jay said quietly. “Never again. I can’t… I can’t have you go again.”

“I won’t,” Bruce promised, holding the back of Jay’s head and threading his fingers through Jay’s hair. “Never.” Then, a thought struck Bruce. He quickly pulled back and held Jay at arm’s length. His eyes lit up as the idea grew more solid. “Run away with me.”

Jay blinked at him. “Run away… with you? From whom? Why?”

Bruce grinned. “No, run away with me. Elope, you know, out of the city? You told me on that rooftop, that if I had ever asked you to stop, you would have stopped? I’m asking right now. Stop, and elope with me.”

Bruce saw Jay slowly absorb the information. Then, a small smile spread onto Jay’s face. It grew wider and wider, until a full-blown Joker-esque grin had formed. Jay pressed a hand against the bat symbol on Bruce’s chest. “I like the sound of that. Where would we go, oh, Romeo?”

Bruce pulled Jay back in and kissed him full on the lips, cupping both sides of Jay’s cheeks and gently running his thumbs along the scars. He pulled away, his lips no doubt stained red. He still grinned, a little breathlessly. “I’m working on that,” he said. “But we’ll wing it, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END, THE END, THE END!
> 
> Okay, the little snippet at the end, the entire conversation? That was written like during the third story of this series. I had that ending planned out long ago, apparently. And I just read it again recently, and I was so flabbergasted I had to take a few moments to freak out, since I never expected it. I had totally forgotten what was going to happen, and I really surprised myself. Again, I love my plot twists a lot, but wow, that bit with Bane at the end. I had not been expecting it. Totally forgot about him.
> 
> And if any of you noticed the little part about the clones? Well, that's a story for another day, I suppose. I was going to write it as part of the series, then I scrapped it completely, but I might do it as a one-shot someday... someone remind me someday, if you're still reading this a long time from its publishing date.
> 
> But all in all, thank you guys so much for reading. This is my longest running series as of far, and I enjoyed writing it so much. I am so glad this was happy and sad a the same time, and I think it can be described as well-balanced in that sense. I hope you all enjoyed reading this story. I am kind of sad this is ending because I've actually fallen in love with the triplets and their personalities. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for reading and sticking through with me!
> 
> Leave me one final comment!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> Jessica (and John, Jack, and Jay) <3333


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